


Into the Abyss

by applecup



Series: As if through a looking-glass [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Gen, fun with vision quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecup/pseuds/applecup
Summary: Malavai Quinn is forced to confront the most irritating Sith he has ever met - himself. (Companion piece to A Mirror, Darkly chapter 11)





	Into the Abyss

Malavai Quinn wasn't certain what he'd been expected to find here, but couldn't help but feel underwhelmed all the same. There were no legendary beasts, no dizzying drops down an ancient canyon - just a sandy oasis, nestled in a rocky hideaway in far-flung corner of the Dune Seas. 

Still, the Force was strong here - he could almost _feel_ it, not just with his mind but as a real, physical presence. Nothing else had ever come close - except, perhaps, the gnawing presence in the furthest depths of the Dark Temple, but this was something quite apart from that. Not a dark presence, not really, but- not a light one, or at the very least, not like any light presence he'd encountered before. It stood to reason, he reflected, that this was a place of pilgrimage - for the locals, for the Jedi.

'My lord?'

It was only on hearing his Lieutenant speak that Quinn realised he'd paused all - that he'd been staring absent-mindedly at the grotto, as his mind wandered on the Force. 

'Keep an eye on the perimeter,' Quinn replied, as he approached the water's edge. 'If anyone tries to interrupt,' he added, 'Kill them.'

'My lord,' Illte just replied, offering him a faint bow. He could never quite puzzle her out; she seemed alternately desperate to please him, and as stubborn and contrary as any young Sith.

'Whatever,' Vette muttered - scuffing her heels on the sand for a long moment, before parking herself on a rock.

Both of them, though, seemed more interested in _him_ , even as he ignored their wary, curious staring. Neither of them seemed to expect him to find anything here, even as both had witnessed the power of the Force; if he was truthful, Quinn wasn't entirely sold on the legends he'd come here chasing. Still, the Jedi he'd been sent to track had walked this path, and for all that they repulsed him, Jedi did have a power, of a sort.

The water, as he knelt at its edge, had a stillness about it that just made him think of a mirror \- an imperfect one, distorting all that it reflected, but a mirror all the same. It was that thought that lingered as he closed his eyes, slowly shutting himself off from the world and beginning a meditation.

_Feel the heat. Feel the sand beneath it. Feel the rocks that lie beneath it. Feel the air; its currents, its stillnesses. Feel the shapes it carves in the earth, day after day, aeon after aeon. Feel the desert..._

-

When he opened his eyes, it was to an unexpected sight.

The Sith standing in front of him was- familiar, far too much so. He held himself in the same manner that Quinn always tried to, projecting a confidence he didn't always manage to feel - wore the same armour, holding the same helmet under one arm.

'You're-' Quinn started, as he stood - half uncertainly, and half unsure that what was in front of him - half not wanting to acknowledge it, and half convinced that he didn't _need_ to.

'You,' the not-him replied - with his voice, and yet not, unnerving Quinn deeply. 'Or rather,' he added, 'I'd be you, had you the courage to truly forge your own path.'

Quinn scowled, at that - at the accusation, at the implication. 'I chose my path,' he replied - truthfully, or something close to it. ' _Courage_ has nothing to do with it.'

The path of the Sith was one he'd embraced gladly, ever since it had opened up to him as a child. There were alternatives, though, he knew that much, and not just within the Sith orthodoxy. More than once during his training and acolyteship, he'd been approached by others who'd seen the oddities in his practices and interpreted them as something in common with whatever heresy they'd been peddling. Quinn had sent them packing, of course - a little more uncertain, each time, that his own practice was as in line with the Sith way as he'd been taught it was. He'd graduated from the Dreshdae Academy, though - the home of the Inquisition, the seat of the Dark Council, the heart of the Sith Orthodoxy. If that wasn't a strike in his favour, then he wasn't sure what would be - short, perhaps, of the personal approval of the Emperor himself.

'Did you?' the apparition replied, though - smiling a little to himself, with the knowing, playful sort of expression of every would-be philosopher who thought themselves far cleverer than they were. 'It seems to me that you are led, like a nerf to slaughter, and would sooner defend your executioner than defeat them.'

'Do not,' Quinn snarled, 'Play games with me. I know your kind,' he added, 'Your path is nothing to be envied.'

He did, too; the Light in the other Sith was unmistakeable - horrifying and entrancing, all at once. Seeing perhaps-himself with the aura of a Jedi - or worse, a false Sith - was almost nauseating in itself; the idea that he might have _been_ such an abhorrent creature-

The apparition apparently picked up on this, though, because he chuckled - adding, 'Am I truly that awful, that even monsters give pause?'

'I am not a monster,' Quinn snapped - he was _Sith_ , with all that implied and demanded. ' _You_ ,' he added, 'Are the abomination.'

He'd forgotten how blue his eyes had once been - the same blue as his father, piercing in a way that the yellowed gazes of Sith tried and so often failed to be. They'd started changing when he was seven - when he was embracing the Force whole-heartedly, while learning the ways that he could change the world, and glad to pay the price that power demanded. The apparition, though - his eyes were still that same blue, and made Quinn feel all the more unnerved for it. He'd never had the feeling, in all the time since, of being truly picked apart by another's gaze, but when this not-quite-him looked at him, all he could think of was his six-year-old self, being dissected by the Inquisitor he'd been brought before to confirm his Force-sensitivity.

(his eleven-year-old self, sparring not against the acolytes he trained with but those of his overseer's own master, desperate to prove not just his own worthiness, but that of the Sith who taught him; his nineteen-year-old-self, on his first night on Korriban - the first time he'd really been confronted by Sith who'd trained under truly selfish masters)

'Your servants would disagree,' his maybe-twin replied - impossibly, horrifically, calm. 'Even your Sith has begun to hate you. Tell me,' he added, studying Quinn with an intensity that unnerved him, 'Is that what you hoped to inspire?'

He thought, at that, of the way he kept half-catching Illte glancing at his own eyes - of the fascinated revulsion that always whispered through her aura, before being expertly smothered by her pretence of detached professionalism. The hypocrisy of her revulsion never stopped irritating him; her own eyes were yellow-orange, even if hers were a result of genetics rather than any proficiency in the Force. 

( _Amber_ , as much as he hated the poetics of the word - flecked with gold, glittering in a way that no Force-bleached eyes ever did)

'It is only right that those who serve show proper deference to their betters. Besides,' Quinn replied, scowling, 'The Lieutenant does not _hate_ me.'

(She always seemed skittish when he caught her unawares, though - never seemed to understand his humour, flinched when he challenged her assertions, and - of late - had outright _reeked_ of fear-)

The apparition, though, just smiled. 'Not yet, perhaps,' he replied, 'Not truly. But you and I know that hate is a thing that rots and festers. And were either of them truly your _better_ ,' he mused, 'We both know you wouldn't chafe at their insistence otherwise half as much.'

'I am _Sith_ ,' Quinn replied, sharply - that itself was proof he was their better - or at least, it should have been. Vette, though- Vette, he was quite certain, would attempt to backtalk the Emperor himself, and Illte- well, Illte's blood alone should have made her _his_ better, a thought that jarred unpleasantly with his own assertions. ( _But without the Force- she's still_ Sith _, but- can Sith be Sith without it? Could she gain the Force? Could I_ lose _it-?_ )

The not-quite-him just chuckled again, though, that self-assured smile never leaving his expression. 'So you say,' the apparition mused, and Quinn was quite certain it was mocking him. 'Tell me,' the other Sith added, 'What was it that you came here seeking?'

Quinn opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again, deciding against the first several replies that came to mind.

_Enlightenment. The path the Jedi took. The Jedi. Answers. A route off this forsaken rock. Understanding. The meaning_ of _enlightenment. Power. Knowledge. The meaning of this arcane ritual. The point of this exercise. The name of Baras's nameless enemy. A prize to impress his Master. The satisfaction of a job well-done. A victory not just for Baras, but for the Empire. Proof that he was right._

'I see,' his not-quite-twin mused, picking apart the unspoken answers. 'How... interesting.'

'What,' Quinn started, snarling, 'Did you-!'

'I told you,' the other-him replied, 'I'm you, in a way. A perfect reflection of an imperfect Sith. You glare at me,' he added, 'But we both know that you were looked at warily by more than just your rivals, on Korriban.'

'If I was looked at _warily_ ,' Quinn replied, 'It was because they knew I posed a threat to their short-sighted recklessness.'

'Precisely,' his not-quite-twin replied, that serenely smug smile back in his expression. 'You are at your strongest not when blinded by passion, but when you can still yourself for long enough to see the webs that others weave. Sith see this, too,' he added, 'And seek not just to blind you, but to make you blind yourself.'

'My passion,' Quinn snarled, 'Is what drives me. I _am_ Sith-!'

'If that were half as true as you keep claiming,' his reflection just retorted, 'Then you wouldn't feel the constant need to tell me.'

'I will have no part in this. Tell me what I need to know,' Quinn snapped. He was tired of this entire- of _this_ , of the not-quite-him and its repulsive aura and its inane posturing, of the heat that was wearing at the edges of his patience and the lack of useful answers and the mere _idea_ he had anything in common with the abomination in front of him, and-

'You already know yourself, brother mine,' the not-quite-him replied, 'Even if you refuse to acknowledge it. Whether it's ignorance, or simply fear-'

'I am not,' Quinn snarled, again, 'Afraid of- _you_ -!'

'Not of me, perhaps,' the apparition conceded - for a moment, 'But of your doubts. You've seen the places passion leads, and rot that ensues from allowing yourself to be consumed by fear. Look at Baras,' the not-quite-him added - gesturing towards his absent Master. 'A so-called Master of the Darkness, paralysed by fear of a young girl.'

'I have,' Quinn started, 'No doubts, and no fear. _You_ ,' he added, injecting as much derision into that word as he could muster, 'Are not a part of me.'

'No? In that case,' his almost-twin replied - drawing his saber hilt, finally, 'You should have no problem in striking me down.'

Quinn felt his hand twitch to his own saber hilt, an instinctual response to the other Sith - but didn't draw it, not yet. 'I will not be baited,' he replied, 'Into needless combat. That trick may work on other Sith-' he added - pausing abruptly, when he realised what he was saying.

'-But you are not other Sith, are you?' the vision finished - smirking, again, with all the self-satisfied arrogance of a heretical philosopher.

'I am unlike the short-sighted imbeciles that plague the Order,' Quinn replied, tartly, 'But that doesn't mean I've anything in common with the likes of you.'

'Tell me,' the not-quite-him replied, 'What is it about the thought of me that you hate so? That I am not chained by the fears of our Master - that I admit that there is power in stillness, that there is strength in staying your hand? That loyalty bought with trust is stronger than that secured with fear?'

It was impossible not to admit that there was truth in what the thing was coming out with, but Quinn- Quinn had _no_ desire to admit this, not to this- _abomination_ that stood before him, this false Sith, this not-quite-him that existed purely to test his commitment to the Sith path. That was it, he realised - this was a test, no different from the visions he'd been subjected to on Korriban, and one that would withhold its secrets until he prised them out of it. There were no Inquisitors here - no Overseers, no rival acolytes, just him and his conscience, but Quinn wasn't arrogant enough to think that a failure here would never make it back to Baras. 

'You,' Quinn replied, glaring at the vision as though he could cause it to immolate through sheer force of will, 'are everything that is rotten in the Order. You'd sooner undermine the Sith and destroy us from within.'

Which just made the reflection smirk, of all things - an amused, patronising expression that only got worse when it spoke. 'You sound very certain of that. Tell me,' he mused, 'What is it that has you so convinced I'm the one mistaken?'

'Because,' Quinn managed, 'If you're right-'

An unthinkable possibility - one that his mind rebelled against, even as the vision forced him to entertain it. _If it was right-_

-then everything he believed was wrong. Or was it, though? He served the Empire - desired only _to_ serve the Empire, and he thought, at that, of what Illte had said on Balmorra. _Wherever I am needed._

Quinn had never stopped loathing Sith who thought only of themselves; who sought only to build and reinforce their own powerbases, who used the Imperial war machine not for its intended purpose but perverted to sometimes little more than a life-size toy. It wasn't something his parents had ever explicitly complained about, in his earshot, but as he'd gotten older, it had been inferable from the meaningful silences and knowing glances and wary changes of topic when Quinn or his Overseer were in the vicinity. Baras was better than many in that regard; Quinn's tasks might have related more to Baras's own networks, but he knew that those spies served a greater cause in the war effort.

'You know there is a rot in the Order,' his twin replied, 'And it is not that of the Light. There are even those who would accuse _you_ , with your desire only to serve, of walking a heretical path. The real question is, do you have the courage to admit it? To embrace it? Or will you continue to deny yourself?'

'I am _not_ ,' Quinn snarled, that accusation pushing all of his doubt aside, 'A heretic, or- _anything_ like you. There is nothing Sith,' he added, finally lighting his saber, 'About the lies you are peddling. If you will not provide _enlightenment_ ,' he added, sneering as he said the word, 'I will find it on my own terms.'

Before the vision could respond, Quinn struck - forcing the not-quite-him to light and raise his own saber in defence, and not before time.

The other Sith didn't just look like him - he _fought_ like him, countered every blow with ease and was countered, in turn, all too easily. For a split second, Quinn recognised the other-him's calm as his own - the study of the board, the dissection of every possibility and calculation of every probability. ('Where's the _passion_ in that, Mal?' he'd been asked, as an acolyte - more than once, by a friend before they became a rival - before they became a corpse, their passion no match for his meticulous planning). 

The realisation made him stagger, though - made him stumble, gave the not-quite-him an opening that he took and that Quinn barely closed in time. He closed it, though - and then pushed the advantage that the vision thought it had, taking that knowledge and turning it on its head, playing the same game with his reflection that Illte had played with him. The vision took the bait, too - pushing his feinted half-failure, and left itself open to a strike that Quinn took without hesitation, driving his saber into the not-quite-him and failing quite entirely to be deeply unsettled by the cry of pain in nearly-his-own voice, or the look of surprised, pained defeat in nearly-his-own-expression.

After that moment, though, other-him just laughed - didn't even have the good grace to spit blood or choke on his injuries, just laughed as Quinn pulled away his saber, as ethereal - for a moment - as the Force itself. Like all the worst amateur philosophers, he couldn't be content to die quietly, either - insisted, despite his loss, on demanding the final word.

'As you insist, my shadow. But know this: even the darkest shadow can be extinguished by the smallest of candles, and those who dwell in that darkness will be blinded by the same. Be careful that you do not become so enamoured of your chains that you are choked by them.'

He was gone, at that \- as was the grotto, light and darkness one and the same for one eye-watering moment before the world rearranged itself. A desert - Tatooine's suns high in the sky, the horizon bare save for landmarks that meant nothing to him but imposed themselves on his memory all the same. And there - in the midst of it all, improbably, a lone stone building, almost invisible against the sands - home, Quinn could sense, to a light that shone as bright as those implacable suns.

' _Your path lies before you, my brother_ ,' the apparition's voice whispered - not into his ear, but right into his mind. ' _I will yet see you at the other side._ '

-

There were murmurings, in the grotto, as he opened his eyes - as he winced, again, the sunlight making his eyes water for real, this time. It took him a long moment to adjust - a moment where he reached out silently with his mind, his companions just as present in the Force as they had been when he'd sat down to this meditation. Illte, clad in that crude approximation of mental armour that spoke of a lifetime around Sith, even for a Force-blind; Vette, less irritable and more bored than she had been previously - listening disinterestedly to a hushed conversation between Illte and some intruder.

_Breev_ , he recognised - frowning to himself at the presence of Baras's informant. _It's just as well_ , he mused, sketching the landmarks that the vision had shown him on his datapad, _she didn't witness any of that_. Never mind Illte or Vette - neither of whom would have been impressed by his not-quite-self. If anything, the latter would have become all the more insufferable - and as for Illte, well-

_There's no point,_ he scolded himself, _dwelling on things that didn't happen._

He stood, at that - took a moment to stretch himself, looking out across the still pool - unable not to see the reflection that looked back at him. For a moment, Quinn was half-convinced that his reflection's eyes were as blue as the sky - that his reflection _smirked_ , and then he blinked, and all he saw looking back was himself.

_You're imagining things._ He snorted, at that thought - pushed the vision and its taunts out of focus, and turned back to his companions - striding across to where they were speaking in hushed, if not deferential, tones; not surprised in the least when Vette spotted him, even if her address to Illte and Breev was not nearly as respectful as it should have been.

'Ms. Breev,' he started, 'I am glad to see you. Here,' he added, not waiting for Breev to respond, 'I saw this, in a vision. Can you make any sense of it?'


End file.
